


Unbroken

by h0neybeebear



Series: Unbroken [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Pining, References to Addiction, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0neybeebear/pseuds/h0neybeebear
Summary: I can’t sleep.I can’t relax.I just can’t stop thinking and aching inside of myself. The tension broiling beneath my flesh won’t bend to pleasure, no matter how rough and unrelenting. I need to break it, snap it beneath the force of something much stronger than pleasure… Something I don’t know if I can find on my own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys, I'm finally back! I have had so much going on IRL but I finally managed to get this finished. So I was again asked to add more onto my Unbroken series so I came up with this prequel (yes, I'm re-ordering the series AGAIN lol). I hope ya'll enjoy :-)

 

~~~ _ Amanda~~~ _

 

_ Drip. _

_ Drip. _

_ Drip. _

The sink releases another tiny droplet of water into the waiting drain, echoing loud against the silence of the bathroom walls. The continuous noise seems to count the seconds that pass, and I’m acutely aware of each and every one.

I’ve been standing here for too long, staring at my reflection, watching the tremble in my lips, the way my jaw clenches, the shimmering of my eyes. My hair is a disheveled mess, and yesterday’s makeup is smeared about my eyes.

I’m naked, and the thrum of multiple orgasms still resonates through my body. The flesh between my legs is swollen and raw, burning from unrelenting friction.

I’ve done this to myself, chasing some fleeting idea of release.

I sat at the open window of my apartment for over an hour, smoking cigarette after cigarette, but I couldn’t stop my mind from spinning, my leg from bouncing. When the cigarette wasn’t in my mouth, I bit my nails. Finally, I stormed to the bed and tossed myself to the sheets. Asserting my trembling fingers to my aching body, I worked myself hard until I was sweating and screaming, twisting and bucking violently beneath my own hand…. But when the pleasure faded, I found myself wide awake, staring at the ceiling, unsatisfied. My pulse raced long after the effects of exertion had faded.

I need more.

And so I ended up here, staring myself down in hopes of finding the solution hidden somewhere in the scintillating blue landscape of my own gaze.

I lean hard on the bathroom counter, breathing heavily as I stare at the leaking faucet. Biting at my lower lip, I swallow back tears. I muffle first the tiny sounds of distress that reach up my throat, then the growls of agony.

I can’t sleep.

I can’t relax.

I just can’t stop thinking and aching inside of myself. The tension broiling beneath my flesh won’t bend to pleasure, no matter how rough and unrelenting. I need to break it, snap it beneath the force of something much stronger than pleasure… Something I don’t know if I can find on my own.

I lift my head for half a second to gaze back at my own desperate expression. I whine at the weak, begging woman inside of me before I lie my head back down on the counter, pressing my heated forehead to the cool surface… Any relief will do.

I know I need so much more, and, God…. I even know what I want.

The dark recesses of my mind aren’t far now when I’ve fallen to these lows, and things I would never even dare to dream of cross my mind - things I’ve kept buried for the sake of professionalism and goddamn respect.

My knees, unsteady and trembling, finally buckle beneath me and with a moan, I sink to the floor. Hunching over, I wrap my arms around my head and suck back tears. My breaths come hard, wheezing in through my nose and blasting out through my clenched teeth.

The desires racing through my mind spill arousal through my bloodstream. Images of copper hair and dancing dark eyes decimate my every defense, crushing my pathetic being between the long fingered fantasies of olive flesh and wine-colored nail polish. The low, raspy voice of my strongest yearning whispers to me the futility of my feeble resistance even as I sink to my side on the floor.

The cold tile floor shocks my flesh, but I can hardly respond as I collapse, my legs twisting to the side while my top half slumps me onto my face. My soft sobs choke intermittently from my throat, punctuated by whimpers, as I stare at the faux wood cabinets in front of me.

I beg to find some way out of these horrendous, sleepless nights and plead for some other solution.

So many times I’ve held my phone in my hand when I’ve found myself shaking on the bathroom, clutching the device in my trembling fingers as I agonize over the simple action of pressing the CALL button. I know that calling her would be easy, but explaining exactly what’s happening inside my mind and body would be far from effortless. She’ll want to know everything. She’ll want to sit me down, hold my hands, look me in the eyes and hear every single humiliating, miserable detail.

I’ve forced myself suffer through every night previously, but maybe tonight is the breaking point. Maybe I’ve finally come to the end of my rope, where I can’t hold on any longer.

Sitting up slowly, I reached up to grab the edge of the counter. My body quivers all over, but I manage to pull myself to my feet and grasp the bathroom door. I yank it open and stumble out into the livingroom.

My phone is still on the window ledge where I left my spent cigarettes soaking in a cup of water.

I reach the window and sink down on the ledge as I grab my phone and turn on the screen. The LED is bright against my already aching eyes, but I manage to scroll through my contacts to find the name that I want… that I desire…

Olivia Benson.

I swallow hard as my thumb hovers over the name.

I hardly need to even try to conjure the images that my brain so often assaults me with. I’ve taken innocent glimpses of her - a touch of her hand, a certain gaze, the way she walks - and cemented them into full formed fantasies that have taken on such a life of their own that I don’t know how to stop them.

It would’ve been easy to look at such a tall, beautiful person and to strip her down in my mind’s eye and become fixated on some kind sexual fantasy, but it isn’t so simple. The thoughts that capture my mind are much more complex than sex, a need that thirsts for a dependency much stronger.

Addiction isn’t new to me. In fact, I’ve often wondered if it is my body’s default setting, but fighting this incessant thirst is perhaps harder than all of my other vice’s combined. Cigarettes, alcohol, gambling… it’s all a never-ending cycle of finding abandon in hedonistic activities, but what I want now is far different. I don’t just want an adrenaline rush, or the numbing abyss of inebriation, nor the satisfying twist of nicotine in my lungs. This is so much more. I’ve spent so long distracting myself that now every single emotion and feeling is bubbling up inside of me, racing to any and every access point, searching for a way out; but I only want release from one person and one alone.

Gripping my phone in my shaking hand, I press my eyes shut. I don’t need strength or courage in this moment… I just need to let these unending desires take over my body and manipulate my actions; then again, I’ve never had a hard time ignoring better judgement.

Opening my eyes, I tap the CALL button as quickly as I can and lift the phone to my ear. The ringing begins, immediately setting off the racing of my heart once more. Each one seems to stretch on for minutes while the spaces in between tick by with the doomed possibility of no answer.

“Hello?”

I nearly gasp when Olivia’s voice cuts through the speaker, crashing across my ear like water on a parched tongue. I feel a tremble go through my entire body, washing goosebumps over my arms, legs, and back, all the way up the back of my head.

“Amanda?” Olivia questions when I don’t reply. “Are you all right?”

“I…” I begin, my voice rough and halting. “C-can I come over?”

There is a beat of confused silence and I feel myself panicking at the thought of rejection. Turning away from the window, I pace across the room, clutching my forehead with my opposite hand.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s really late… I just haven’t slept and I’m having a really hard night.” I swallow hard though my throat is dry. Licking my lips, I continue in a bare whisper, “I just didn’t know what to do…. I thought about breaking my sobriety and-”

“Amanda.” Olivia cuts me off, her voice firm but gentle. “Stop for a second. Take a breath.”

“Right, yes…” I stutter, trying to follow Olivia’s orders.

Christ himself fucking knows that all I want to do is whatever Olivia wants.

“You said you haven’t slept?” Olivia asks, softly, after a moment.

“Yeah….” I murmur, rubbing my hand over my face. “It’s been over 24 hours, I think.”

“I’ll come to you.” Olivia says. “You shouldn’t be out by yourself when you’re that sleep deprived.”

I open my mouth to protest, but I just can’t find the ire to do so. I can already hear the rustling of Olivia getting out of bed through the phone and all I can imagine is her being here, holding me, alleviating me of my torment; not to mention, my heart sings at the very idea that Olivia cares so much for my well being.

“I’ll be there soon.” Olivia says, “Hold on, okay?”

“Thank you.” I whisper, pushing back tears that blossom in my eyes once more.

The line clicks and I sink to the windowsill once more, my hand dropping limply to my lap. Staring down at the floor, I listen to the sound of my own breathing rasping from my throat in the sudden absence of Olivia’s voice. In the background, my heartbeat chugs steadily in my ears.

Olivia hardly asked any questions on the phone, but once she gets here, it will be much different. I am both relieved and horrified that I actually made the call. I suppose I can pass this off as a struggle with relapsing into gambling, but I just don’t know if I will be able to control myself once Olivia is in my space, enveloping me with the smell of her perfume or the exhilaration of her touch.

Several minutes pass before it occurs to me that I should dress myself. I have to be at least halfway presentable, but not enough that Olivia won’t take pity on me. It’s a manipulative thought, but at this point, I will do almost anything to have what I desire most.

Rising from the windowsill, I return to the bedroom where my clothing is strewn on the floor. I tug the t-shirt and pajama shorts back on before running my fingers through my hair. My blonde locks are mussed and knotted and I can hardly get through a section without catching on a tangle. Dropping my hands back to my sides, I let out a quavering sigh.

My fingers are trembling almost indistinctly, but I can feel the nervous butterflies twisting my stomach, my pulse racing shallowly throughout my body.

For a brief moment I wonder if I should call Olivia back and tell her that her presence isn’t necessary, that I can get through this night alone just like every other night; but the very thought of taking away the possibility of fulfilling my desires stops me from picking up the phone again.

I’m fucking terrified, but the need inside of me pulses stronger than anything I’ve ever felt, including fear.

I return to the living room, finding myself bereft with nothing for my hands to do. My cigarettes sit on the sill, silently beckoning me, and I slouch down by the window to light up.

The sounds of city drift softly through my window and I lean my head back against the frame as I take the first drag. It feels slightly more calming than my first round of nicotine but maybe that’s only because I know she will be here with me soon, taking care of me.

Grey smoke swirls out around my face as I sigh.

Despite my efforts to relax, I can feel myself quivering involuntarily. Nervous bursts of energy quake through my arms and legs and my stomach flips over and over with the scenarios that play out in my mind. I can quickly feel my body begin to burn and throb with heat which curls into a tight ball between my hips, expanding with each second.

I desperately suck at my cigarette, but the knowledge that she’ll be here with me in a matter of minutes won’t let my mind or body rest.

She’ll want to touch me to ensure my well being, her fingers dancing over my arms, squeezing my shoulder. Maybe she’ll even hold me, folding me against the warmth and fullness of her breasts. I can imagine already how she’ll murmur assurances into my ear, her lips pressing soft kisses to my hair and temple…

_ Buzz! _

I start, my body shaking suddenly as the buzzing from the gate down below jars me from my fantasy. I haven’t realized how my mind has been whisked away with thoughts of her and my heart jackhammers in my chest when I find her suddenly here on my doorstep.

I stumble up from the window sill in order to buzz her in and immediately begin to pace the room, the cigarette still dangling from my fingers. The racing of my pulse nearly chokes my throat and I suck in shallow, useless breaths as I wait for her to arrive at my door.

Her knock stills my pacing.

Standing in the middle of the room, quivering and aching, I stare at the door. A part of me wants to run from this, to hide myself from the shame of such need beneath her discerning, dark eyes; but in the pit of my gut, desire twists me, tossing my willpower to the wind.

She knocks again.

“Amanda?” Her voice calls to me, muffled behind the separation of wood and stone.

I rush to the door suddenly, clenching my fingers hard around the doorknob. I’m quaking as I lodge the cigarette between my lips in order to turn the deadbolt with my other hand. Smoke drifts in front of my already blurred vision as I hesitate for a half a second longer.

“Amanda?” She repeats, the concern clearly etched into her tone.

Lowering my head, I forcefully pull the door open, and I want to curl to the floor immediately. I feel vulnerable and naked with her so close to me, weak and trembling beneath her gaze.

She reaches out, her hand settling on my shoulder. Her fingers seem to sear my through the cloth of my t-shirt and I clench my lips down hard around the cigarette, hoping to hide my watery eyes from her sight in a haze of nicotine.

“Let me in, sweetie.” She murmurs, the soft firmness of her voice rattling my tethers of self control.

I step back, haltingly, allowing her enough space to enter. She brushes past me, drowning me in the scent of her hair and perfume, and I sink against the door. The weight of my body drags it shut, locking us inside together.

I reach up to grab the cigarette from my lips and release a wavering sigh, searching for some strength within me to turn and face her.

“Amanda.” Olivia says, softly.

I feel her touch my back and I clench my eyes shut hard as my body shudders in reaction, but her hands don’t leave me. Her fingers curls around shoulders, pulling me slowly away from the door.

“Come sit down.” She whispers, soothingly. “We can talk about whatever is going on.”

I hang my head as I turn, unable to lift my eyes to hers. All I can see her body wrapped in a dark trench coat, and a hint of olive flesh at the V of her neckline.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, shaking my head.

“No, no, no.” She stops my apologizing, immediately, her fingers brushing my chin.

I want to fight the guidance of her hand, but I feel like a lump of clay beneath her hands, bending and folding and forming to the touch of her fingers. She drags my face upwards, and her eyes find mine.

Her face is bare of makeup, but that doesn’t matter. She’s no less intense.. No less beautiful…

Tears immediately burn my eyes and I swallow back a sob that wants to well up in my throat. I lift a hand to rub over my face and eyes, to hide the fact that her very presence is bringing me to my knees.

“Don’t apologize, Amanda.” She says, her fingers barely leaving my chin. “You did the right thing. You asked for help.”

I nod, raggedly, my gaze flitting away from her to the walls, to the floor, to the ceiling - anywhere but her dark, inquiring eyes.

“Come sit down.” She urges, pulling me towards the couch.

I allow her to drag me to the sofa and I sink to the cushions, though I can hardly relax into the comforting softness.

“Let’s put that out.” Olivia suggests, taking the cigarette from my fingers.

I allow her to remove it and I watch with a half-lidded, blurry gaze as she crosses the room to the windowsill and tosses the half burnt cigarette into the glass of water. When she turns, her brow is furrowed, her lips taut with concern.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” She asks.

I wordlessly lift my hands with a shake of my head. I don’t know how to answer her, how to tell her that what I want is so far beyond the line of where our relationship should end, but that I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop needing her.

“Amanda…” She says, slowly, as she begins to walk back towards me, “I’ll sit here with you all night if it will keep you from doing something you’ll regret, but you need to tell me what got us here.”

The firm, unyielding tone of her voice strikes weakness into my limbs, and pulls my stomach tight with the pull of desire.

“I…” I begin, raspily, trying to find some way to explain. “I could’ve called someone else… you know?”

She frowns as she eases down next to me, her hands clasped together in her lap as she says, “Do you not want me to pry?”

“That’s not what I meant…” I whisper, my gaze drifting over to hers with a guilty sheen of tears.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her tone unshaken by my words and behavior.

“I mean… I could’ve called someone else on a bad night, but….I…” I stop for half a second, my heart palpitating at the thought of baring my heart to her, but her intense, unwavering gaze won’t let my explanation sputter out. “I mean… I wanted you… I need… you…”

The words fall quaking from my lips,my voice sounding strung out with desire and pain. I lay weakly against the cushions, tears pricking my reddened eyes, and I appear just as wasted as I sound.

The seconds between my confession and her response stretch out as her expression shifts from concern to confusion… then finally, shocked understanding. Even as the implications of my words form in her eyes, we don’t move an inch, both of us staring at each other as if waiting for this moment to mean something different.

Finally, the silence extends into sharp discomfort, and I shove up from the couch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” I mumble, pacing away from her, and rubbing my hands over my face.

My heart is quickly falling, mortification filling me, and my brain races to find some way to reverse this moment, if only to find some other way to make her understand. I don’t know if I can take a simple rejection because I’m not sure this is something I can live without.

“Amanda…” Olivia’s voice finally cuts through my inner monologue of self doubt.

I pause my pacing, panting softly into my palms. I hear her footsteps approach and my shoulders clench against apprehension, but when her hands touch me, they’re gentle. She pulls me around, slides her fingers around my wrists to drag away my mask of shame.

“Look at me.” She says, softly, holding my hands between us.

I swallow hard against a barrage of tears, using every bit of strength inside myself to lift my eyes to hers. It’s hard to read her tense expression, but it’s a relief not to see disgust in her gaze… at least, not yet.

“I need to you to tell me exactly what you mean.” Olivia orders, but her voice is soft.

I can’t stand to hold her gaze any longer and I lower my head, staring at her long fingers wrapped around my wrists, barely brushing up against my palms.

“I mean…” I rasp, almost too quietly to hear, “I mean… I… I need….things… from you. I’ve thought about you doing them to me….” My voice trails away into humiliated sniffles as my face flushes sharply at the sound of my own admission.

She's quiet for a long moment, but I can feel her fingers tighten about my wrists. I chance a glimpse up at her but her gaze it pointed off to the side, her lips pursed tautly.

Panic sears my stomach and I begin to pull away from her, my brain screaming for some kind of escape from the horrifying path this conversation has taken. I wasn't sure how I was going to explain myself, but this is far worse than I expected.

“This was such a mistake.” I groan.

My clenched fists strain against her, but her fingers squeeze down on my arms, anchoring me there in front of her with desperate tears streaking my flushed face. I whimper softly and try to wrench my arms from her once more, but she overpowers me, pulling me taut against her body.

Our struggle causes us to stumble back, and I nearly lose my balance in my eagerness to escape. She catches me about the waist, holding me securely against her as my back hits the wall.

“Amanda, stop, stop.” She orders as I sink down in the embrace of her arms, tears twisting my face.

“Nooo….” I moan, hanging my head against her chest.

She smells sweet as my nose drags against her collarbone, and the softness of her flesh only makes want to sob harder.

“Just let me go…” I cry, panting against the humiliation that squeezes my throat.

“No… I won't let you go.” She whispers against my hair.

Her voice is soft, a startling comparison to the iron grip of her fingers around my wrist and her arm circling my waist. She holds me down with the firm command that every fiber of my being has been aching for, causing a shudder to rake over my body. I tremble in her arms, an aching mass of exposed nerve endings and miserable desire.

“Breathe.” She murmurs, and I don't dare to fight her again.

I suck in quivering breaths and she listens intently to every single inhale, allowing me to gather my composure until I'm no longer hiccuping and gasping with tears.

She shifts against me, releasing my wrist in order to touch my jaw. I don't want to look at her even as my body thrums at the barest brush of her fingers. She feels electric against me, shocking me with sensation after sensation.

“Tell me what you've thought about.” Her tone is just above a murmur, even and unfaltering.

I whine once more, but she won't let me move even an inch away from her.

“I've seen the way you look at me.” She says, softly, stroking the tears away from my cheek. “I know there's…. things you want to tell me.”

I bite at my lower lip, turning my cheek against the warmth of her palm, seeking comfort in the fact that she hasn't pushed me away. I can't look at her yet because even the sound of her voice discerning my deepest desire is too much.

“You've noticed?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“Yes.” She murmurs.

Feeling even more embarrassed, I dig my face into my palm and swallow back emotion though this moment only seems to make me throb harder for her.

“Tell me.” She encourages, her thumb rubbing gently over my cheek.

“I…” I choke out, my thoughts tripping over themselves as I try to find some way to tell her exactly what I want...what I need… “I think about you….hurting me….”

The words tumble roughly from lips, incurring a loud, ringing silence. I know it's not what she was expecting.

“Amanda…” She begins, finally, drawing back slightly to try to catch my gaze.

“I told you to just let me go…” I whisper, finally gazing back at her pathetically.

“I can't enable another destructive behavior pattern.” She says, her tone sharp, though I doubt she means to hurt me.

“That's not how it is.” I whine, right on the verge of pleading despite my efforts to push her away; despite the fact that just an hour ago I compared this to addiction.

“Tell me how it is.” She insists. “And please tell me if you've hurt yourself or if someone else has engaged in this with you-”

“Olivia.” I cut her off, my voice begging. “Please…I wouldn’t.”

She closes her mouth, but the furrow of her brows and the look in her dark eyes don't lose their suspicion.

“Look…” I breath out in a trembling whisper. “I just…want you to…” I shake my head, struggling to find words to properly describe these incessant desires. “I think about you….punishing me…”

Silence greets me once more and I can't even look at her out of curiosity this time. A flush rises on my cheeks and I clench my eyes shut, waiting for her condemnation once more.

“Punishing you how?” She says at last, and I can tell she's barely smoothed over her shock despite her even tone.

Swallowing hard, I force myself to keep standing beneath the heat of her interrogation.

“Holding me down…” I whisper, my voice husky and thin. “ Taking off my pants… Spanking me…”

Her arm clenches around my waist and I can feel her chest expand in a quick inhale. She's quiet and I can feel us teetering on the outer fringes of a type of limbo, neither of wanting to break this moment, neither of us daring to move.

Finally, her arms slacken and she slips away from me, leaving me achingly cold in the absence of her touch. I lapse against the wall, emotional exhaustion pulling at me as I watch her walk away slowly, her back turned. Her hands are lifted to her face as if she can rub the shock and strain from her expression.

I know she's trying to process everything I've told her and that logically I should've expected this reaction, but I have been living with these increasingly strong desires for so long that I can hardly stand another minute of waiting.

She crosses to the window, and stands there gazing out for what seems to be an eternity.

I hardly move from the wall, frozen somewhere between the fear of rejection and the anticipation of action.

Finally, she speaks, her voice like a wave breaking against the shore. I am that dry, thirsty stretch of sand, soaking up anything she could possibly give me, falling to the undertow of her alluring currents.

“I don't know if I can give you want you want, Amanda.” She says, her voice brittle against any telling emotion.

Her words fall upon my ears but the apparent implications don't cement themselves for several, seemingly long moments. When they finally do I feel as if my chest is collapsing in on itself.

I am truly doomed.

These nights will stretch ahead of me endlessly until this wretched need has run it's course though I don't know what will be left of me in the wake. I don't want to imagine possibly surviving the withdrawals of something I've only ever grasped in my imagination.

I sink down against the wall, my back sliding across the smooth surface until I crumple on the floor. The tears don't hit me until I'm hunched over my knees, my arms wrapped around my head. My shoulders begin to shake, heaving sobs welling up in my chest, ready to break into uncontrollable gasps and moans.

“Amanda, Amanda, honey…” Olivia’s voice is next to me in the next second, her hands reaching out to touch me, settling over my shoulders as she kneels down next to me.

“You don’t understand!” I cry, wrenching my head up from arms.

Her eyes are wide, brows knotted, lips turned down in a sharp display of unease and concern, and I realize that for once she doesn’t know what to do. I’ve never imagined that she will grasp for direction, or falter in her decision. Even in my fantasies, I’ve placed my trust in her to take care of me and never doubted that she will find a way.

“You have to help me…” I whisper, my trembling hands reaching out to scramble over her arms for purchase. “ _ Please… _ ”

“Amanda…” She whispers, and when she pulls me close I can see the emotion striking her eyes.

The realization that I’ve cut beneath the thick layer of armor that she wears startles me, but I don’t have time to decide whether that’s what I’ve wanted or not. Her arms are winding around me again, cradling me to her chest and I collapse into her. She’s soft, and warm, the utter epitome of safety, and my fingers claw over her back as if to draw her closer although we’re already pressed tight.

For a few blissful moments, nothing else matters. The gnawing hunger deep inside of me quiets to the calm of her embrace, and lapsing against her seems a relief rather than a concession. She’s found me here at my lowest point, a mess of tears and overextended emotions on the floor of my apartment - and I trust her to lift me up from here.

 


	2. Chapter 2

~~~ _ Olivia~~~ _

It's hard to contemplate how I arrived here, huddled on the floor over my subordinate officer, struggling to accept or even understand what she wants from me.

When I first took over SVU as commanding officer, I once expressed to my therapist, Dr. Lindstrom, how stressed I was over the individual needs of my charges, and his response resonates in my ears even now, years later - they see me as a matriarchal figure, and may be reflecting feelings towards their mother onto me.

Amanda is my middle child, my trouble maker. I've spent more time correcting her than any other member of the unit, and a part of me deep inside is not shocked by her desires in the least; but that part of me has never seen the light day, and I have never expected it to….not until now.

I'd be hard pressed to say that mine and Amanda's relationship is nothing less than tumultuous. The tension that so often lies between us has forced many feeling through the near invisible cracks in my emotional armor. I knew that when I became sergeant that I would have to grow a thicker skin in order to be the most logical, levelheaded, professional officer in the unit, but when Amanda stands across from me I find that calm sense of control that I've worked so hard to achieve slipping from my fingers. At times she frustrates me, angers me, pushes me to downright rage; but then just as soon my heart aches for the tears shimmering in her blue eyes, hinting at a lonely sorrow that she so rarely will blatantly show to anyone.

In a way I feel honored to be the one holding her in this moment, for I know the agony she must have put herself through before reaching this low of a point. Yes, a part of me even wants to give her exactly what she desires because as angry as she has made me in the past it will never overwhelm that protectiveness I find crushing me when I look at her.

It's hard to think about how we got here because the logical part of me would do anything to escape this room if only to take away the possibility of this temptation. I've seen her stolen glances, the flush on her cheeks when I catch her staring for too long, and I thought it would be easy to deny a sexual proposition, but this is far from what I ever expected, light years from how I ever imagined I would interpret such a request.

This isn't sex. This isn't lust. This is deep-seated desire for protection and correction - everything I've ever wanted to give her… Everything I'd ever hoped to be to her...

I'm torn between my morals and my dedication to her, and it's the first time that those two things have been at odds rather than in alignment.

All I know in the moment is that I can't leave her here like this. She would never trust me or look at me the same again. 

Her tears have finally calmed. She's still and quiet in my arms for the first time in the evening no doubt; but I feel as if we are balancing on the tip of a knife. One wrong move and she'll slip through my fingers, impaling herself on the sharp blade of her own desires.

I shift slowly, causing her to whine, her arms tightening about me.

“I'm not going anywhere.” I whisper, stroking the back of her head softly. “ I just want to put you in bed.”

She's taut against me for another moment before her arms begin to loosen. Her head remains lowered as I pull back slightly and begin to lift us from the floor. Once we're on our feet, I wrap one arm around her waist and direct her towards the bedroom.

She's small and quivering against me as I lead us to the bed. She sinks down to the mattress on her back and lifts her hand over her face, rubbing at her eyes.

My chest aches at the sight of her distress, and I hover over her, contemplating how wise it would be to lie down next to her. Everything within me wants to keep her safe in my arms, all night if necessary.

Sitting down slowly at the edge of the bed, I reach out and touch her leg, my fingers skimming over her bare knee and thigh. I watch her inhale sharply at the slight touch, and my own heart thuds at the sensation of her soft flesh beneath my hand.

The reaction catches me off guard and I pull my hands back quickly, clenching them together in my lap. I realize I've retracted myself too quickly to avoid her notice when her hands slide from her face and she glances over at me with watery, red eyes.

She stares me, uncertainly for a moment before she asks, her voice whispy and trembling, “Are you going to leave me?”

Swallowing against the knot in my throat I shake my head.

“No, Amanda, I won't leave you.”

She blinks quickly and in the moonlight I can see the tears clinging to her lashes.

Sliding in closer to her, I reach out to brush the stray tear from the corner of her eye before it falls down her cheek. She gazes up at me, her lips quivering apart as our faces align, eyes locking firmly for the first time this evening.

My heart clutches at the need bleeding from her eyes, and I clasp my hand to her cheek, searching for some words of assurance. I need to speak to break this moment. We're far too close, hovering at a cliff's edge, the point of no return.

“Amanda…” I begin, but my voice is a husky whisper.

Suddenly, she's pulling me in, her small, quivering hands grasping at my shoulders and hair and I collapse too quickly against her, folding like a carefully composed house of cards.

Her mouth presses to mine, warm and salty from tears, trembling with desire. Her hands clutch me close as a soft moan vibrates against my lips.

My heart seems to stop full force for one, excruciating second and I'm paralyzed, my hands braced on either side of her head. The kiss is full formed before I can even tell myself that I should be pulling away. I should be ripping myself out of this situation, filled with disgust and horror over the fact that I had let this happen...that I was suddenly taking advantage of a subordinate officer and a poor woman's distress.

But, fuck, I just can't move.

The chugging of my heart counts down the next five seconds in pulsing tandem with my inner clock of moral reflexes. It's been too long for me to resist now and claim that I wanted no part of this.

Finally, she releases my face, washing waves of both relief and desire across my body. Damn my body and her pouting lips….but I know I only have myself to blame.

She stares up at me, expectantly, as if waiting for me to speak.

“That's enough, Amanda.” I finally order, pushing brazen steel into my voice as I pull back.

I grab her wrists, dislodging her hands from my shoulders and clutching them to her chest, at arm's length from me. Her breasts heave beneath my hands, and I can feel the heat emanating from her body.

“I'm sorry I let that happen.” I say, though I feel disconnected from the words. “That shouldn't have happened.”

“I kissed you…” She whispers, biting at her lower lip.

“I know.” I return, lowering my head for half a second.

My hands are still taut around her wrists, but I can't bring myself to let her go.

“I solicited a superior officer.” She says, her tone startling spiteful. “What are you going to do about it?”

My eyes snap up sharply to hers as realization dawns upon my brain.

She's kissed me to force my hand, to create some imaginary wrong that I should right; and,goddamnit, she hasn't missed her mark in infuriating me. Before I can stop myself, I'm  imagining grabbing her, forcing her on her face, yanking down her shorts….

I find myself clutching her wrists so tightly that my knuckles blanch, my head ducked to hide the shifting expressions of horror and arousal on my face. It takes every ounce of willpower inside of me to push away, shove off the bed, and walk away from her.

My back is turned to her as I cover my nose and mouth with my hands, muffling the heavy breaths that hiss from between my teeth.

_ You came here to take care of her...to protect her...to hold her… _ I berate myself even as a tiny voice in the back of my mind tells me that if I just give in to what she wants I could accomplish all three.

Finally, my heart calms enough for me to breath and I slowly slide my hands from my face and I tilt my head back, taking in a deep inhale.

“I won't leave you,” I say, my voice raw against the quiet stillness of the room, “But I can't touch you like that again...or any other way you want.”

Silence greets me and I turn towards her to capture her reaction. She's sat up on the bed, one elbow on her bent knee, cradling her forehead. She's staring off towards an indistinct direction, but even at this distance I can see the sheen of tears in her eyes, the tremble rippling across her jaw and lips.

Several slow seconds pass, wrenching the tension higher before finally she bolts up from the bed.

“I need a smoke.” She whispers, her voice choked as she rushes past me.

Flinging the bedroom door open, she storms out, causing the knob to slam into the wall. I flinch at the sudden noise as she leaves me in wake of her exit. Her aura remains, clouding me with her despair and anguish.

I stand in the middle of room, listening to her footsteps echo towards the windowsill, then almost indistinctly the click of the lighter.

I want to storm out after her and rip the damn cigarette straight from her lips. I want to shake her and make her realize how much I care, but I know I'd only be falling into her plans of forcing me into uncontrolled, overextended emotions. She knows if she pushes in the right places I'll snap.

Maybe every time I found her staring at me she was only returning my seeking, yearning gaze.

The realization is like a punch to my gut, stealing the air from my lungs for a terrifying second. I scramble to erect the shuddering foundations of my relationship to Amanda in my mind, but a part of me knows that we will never be the same. I can brainwash myself into believing that we can go as we were before after this night, but it won't change a goddamn thing.

It doesn't change that she’s collapsing into herself, falling to every self destructive coping mechanism that she can think of. It doesn’t change the fact that she needs me. It doesn't change the knowledge that she's the safest when she’s with me…

I find myself trembling, my hands clenched at my sides, my heart racing in my ears.

I can't leave her.

Tearing myself from my frozen position in the middle of the room, I stride towards the living room. My nails bite into my palms as I find her sitting by the window, gazing out.

My boot heels striking the floor jars her and her gaze whips to mine, wide and watery. Her lips are parted, releasing a stream of smoke.

“What do you want?” She asks as I reach her.

She turns her face away, taking another drag of the cigarette, and I can't stand to watch her slowly killing herself with the damn thing any longer. Resolve pushes through my bloodstream, and I snatch it from her, taking it from her quivering lips.

“Hey, what the hell?” She begins, turning an angered gaze on me.

“You want control?” I demand, tossing the cigarette into the cup of water.

It hisses and sizzles before dying out, just like her resistance will.

“I don't do bullshit, Amanda.” I say, turning a narrowed gaze upon her. “I don’t do manipulation or mind games. I want to help you, but you need to help yourself first.”

“I don't see how-” She begins, gesturing towards the cup.

“Stop.” I hold up a hand in front of her confused gaze. “You’ll take your ass back to bed, and stop it with these tantrums.”

She stares at me, her mouth ajar, lashes fluttering quickly.

I hold her stare, unwaveringly, though inside my heart is racing. I'm not sure she'll obey me, or what path I have forged if she does.

After several excruciating seconds, her gaze falls from mine and she slides down from the windowsill.

“Yes, ma'am.” She mutters in a shocked tone as she passes me on her way towards the bedroom.

I can finally breathe when she's out of my sight, and the slow burn throughout my body fully engulfs me. I lean heavily against the window, staring down at the disintegrating cigarettes swirling in the glass.

The fact that she obeyed me spills a toxic satisfaction into my veins, and I close my eyes against the sensations that want to take over me, but my knees are already weak, the darkest part of my heart feasting on her wide-eyed reactions and compliant behavior. She's never obeyed me so readily, and the fact that it's here in her apartment, with her kiss still fresh upon my lips terrifies me - and if I would allow myself to admit it - arouses me.

It takes several minutes for me to quietly lace my emotions back up beneath a layer of control and calm. Finally, I'm able to straighten and walk back towards the bedroom.

When I gaze inside, she's lying on her side, curled up with her back to me. There's a slight shudder in her shoulders and I realize that when I stripped her of her rebellion, I also stripped away her composure.

I sigh, softly, as my compassion for her rises back to the surface, though it now too appears as a symptom of this convoluted desire.

Crossing the room, I sit down at the edge of the bed and begin to remove my jacket and shoes.

“I'll stay here with you.” I say softly, “But there will be no more rash decisions tonight.”

She barely responds to my words, but I know she's heard me. I trust her to continue to obey me as I lie down next to her and slide an arm around her waist.

She's soft and warm against me, fitting perfectly into the curve of my body and I have to push down a shudder from inside myself.

For several long moments, however, she's rigid and silent, and just as I begin to wonder if she's angry, if I've done more harm than good, she shifts. Turning over, she barely glances up at me before she throws herself against my chest, her face buried in my neck. 

She doesn't say anything, but I don't think she needs to. As I wrap my arms around her, I think I'm beginning to understand.

~~~~~

My internal alarm clock wakes me at just past 6 am.

Light is barely beginning to tinge the sky as my lids flutter open towards the broad window. I feel stiff and disoriented for a moment before it strikes me that there is a warm body cuddled close to me, and I remember where I'm at.

Memories and emotions of the night before flood my brain, whisking away whatever remnants of hazy sleep may have remained.

Today won't be any other day.

I sit up slowly from the mattress, though exhaustion tugs at me, urging me to collapse against the inviting softness of Amanda's body once more…. But I know this can't happen again, and I have to have more fortitude than I did just a few hours ago.

I hardly allow myself to look at her as I slide my legs over the side of the bed and find my shoes where I left them. I push my feet into the boots and run my fingers through my disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly locks.

With another sigh, I stand from the bed and gather my coat from the end of the bed.

I'm pulling it onto my arms when she rolls slowly onto her back, her blue eyes gazing at me from beneath sleepy half lids.

“You're leaving?” She whispers, her voice rough with drowsiness.

I can barely stand to look at her gently twisted body, bare legs, and blonde hair spread around her sad expression.

“Yes.” I say, firmly, chasing the hesitancy from my voice quickly as I button my coat. “I have to go home and get ready for work.”

“Oh…” She murmurs, her brow creasing.

There's quiet for a moment as I finish buttoning my coat and find my hands yearning for some other task to distract me from this moment; but I can't.

“Amanda…” I say, slowly, turning to her. “I think it's best you call someone else next time.”

The words feel like razor blades slicing my own tongue on their way to her heart, but I know I have to say them - no matter how much it hurts both of us.

Her brow tightens further and I can see her jaw clenching. Her throat bobs and I steel myself against the tears that are beginning to shimmer in her eyes, the utter pain of abandonment marking her every mannerism.

She sits up and turns away from me. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she clasps her hands over her face. I can see the bitterness spread into the taut set of her shoulders and I lower my head, shoving my uncertain hands into my pockets.

“I'm sorry.” I murmur. “I take responsibility for the feelings I had towards you last night, and they are the very reasons I cannot in good conscience put myself in this situation again. My integrity as commanding officer and as an officer of the NYPD-”

“Stop.”

She stands suddenly from the bed, throwing out her hands, though she doesn't even look at me.

The pain in every nuance of her posture and voice quiets the desperate, strangely logical words spilling from my lips. It seems odd that such sound thinking could hurt so much, but I realize that I have suffered one single night, and she has suffered dozens before I was even made privy to her struggles. Everything within me wants to make right every wrong that has plagued her, but I can't trade my cloak of lieutenant for that of caregiver.

Amanda paces towards the window and looks out, one hand clutched in her hair, the other gripping her hip.

“I really needed you.” She says at last, her tone wrought with tears. “It took all my courage just to tell you…”

“I know.” I return, quietly.

“I felt so hopeful when I finally fell asleep and you were there with me….”

I take in a sharp breath, my hands clenching and quivering inside my jacket pockets. Remembering how she felt against me is almost too much.

“Now you're just going to dump me onto someone else?” She asks, turning around finally, snatching the warmth straight from my belly.

“I can't give you what you want.” I repeat the words from last night, but they bite me just as much.

Amanda nods slowly, the tears growing in her arms. She spins back around just as one breaks from her lid and she leans against the window, reticent and rigid.

My heart feels heavy, pricking with shards of her pain with every heartbeat and the desire to go to her nearly overwhelms me. My arms ache to hold her, my lips yearning for her tear soaked mouth all over again, as if I haven't just promised us both to end it here.

But I have to be stronger.

I spin suddenly, tears of disappointment and yearning sting my eyes. I yank the bedroom door open and rush across the apartment. I'm forcing myself to leave before the desire to give into her takes over my entire being and not just my heart.

A part of me expected her to come after me, to beg me to stay, but the apartment is silent behind me. Not even her soft cries reach my ears, and perhaps that pains more than some pathetic, desperate display at my feet.

Clenching my teeth against the wayward tears, I shut the door behind me and jog and down the stairs to the front door.

I thought I would feel better once I was outside, but relief is far from washing over me, even as I'm driving away, her apartment fading in my rearview mirror. I may have escaped the apartment, but I'm not even close to escaping my feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

_~~~Amanda~~~_

It's been less than a week, but to me it feels like months. Each wretched hour that has passed by has left me feeling achingly bereft, and a chasm of uncontrollable desires rarely closes its yawning mouth.

I've learned to operate on professional autopilot, and I've managed to make it through the workdays without drawing too much attention to myself from my co workers, although I've caught Olivia's uncertain gazes. She hasn't spoken to me outside of work-related conversations, and in some ways I can almost imagine these feelings don't exist if I zone out far enough. On the other hand, her presence is almost too much to handle should the slightest awareness of the tension between us arise.

It's a Saturday evening when she sends it all crashing down upon my head -with all of her best intentions as usual.

I'm gathering my coat and locking away my service weapon when she exits her office. I sense her presence and her eyes upon me before I even turn.

The rest of the squad room is silent and deserted as she approaches me. Even with my head down, I can see the tense expression on her face in my peripheral.

“Amanda…” Her voice is soft as she comes to stand next to my desk.

I straighten and begin to shove my coat onto my arms. I don't want to look at her.

“Yeah?”

She hesitates for half a second and I can see her hands clenched in front of her.

“I wanted to ask how you are?” She says, finally, slowly.

I lean my head back with a sigh and flip my hair over my collar as I try to think of some way to respond. A dozen spiteful thoughts run through my mind, followed by a deeper instinct to beg her once more for her compliance.

“I'm… Fine.” I reply, stiffly, grabbing my phone from the desk and shoving it into my pocket.

“Are you?” She asks, stepping forward.

She reaches out and touches my arm, halting my harried motions. I glance over at her fingers lightly gripping my forearm, distinctly aware of every single wave of heat that washes over me in suffocating, churning tides.

“Yeah…” I rasp, but my voice sounds uncertain even in my own ears.

“I know I came off rough.” She murmurs, gently, and I wonder if she's trying to push me to explosion. “My very last desire was to let you down.”

I purse my lips against the urge to cry at her simple words - when she's so close to me and yet so far.

“And what was your first?” I ask, huskily, lifting my eyes to her wide, dark ones.

She stares back at me, her lips parting in a soft quiver of shock as if she hadn't expected me to blatantly acknowledge the desires I had seen hiding in her eyes that night.

“That doesn't matter.” She says at last, her fingers sliding from my arm.

“Then don't patronize me.” I snap quickly at her denial although I'm prepared for it.

“Amanda, I care about you as a member of my squad and as my friend. What you're asking of me compromises both of those positions.” She reasons, seemingly desperate to gain my understanding.

I shake my head, shouldering past her in order to get out of the room. The exposure of the squad room, although empty, it far too raw against the vulnerable layers of my heart that she's filleting open. Each word seems like scalpel in her hands, eviscerating me almost painlessly at first...until I realize I'm bleeding out.

“Amanda…” She calls after me as I head towards the elevator, hands shoved into my pockets.

The floor blurs in front of me but I don’t stop until I'm stabbing the down button over and over, desperate for the doors to open.

“Amanda, Amanda…”

Her footsteps pound against the floor as she jogs after me and she catches up to me just as the elevator dings and the door begins to slide open.

“Wait…” She breathes, catching my arm.

“I get it, Olivia.” I cry, spinning back to her. “You can't.”

She draws back, her brows furrowing sharply. I can see the conflict raging in her eyes, her body rigid against her urges to hold me, and I wish she'd just break, just as sharply and painfully as I have done, over and over again; but she won't -not here, not tonight...maybe not ever.

“If there was something I could do…” She whispers, fervently, clutching my arms.

I lapse back against the wall, my head lolling to the side as a tear slips from my eye.

Her words hurt because I know I how much she means them. I know she would give me the shirt off her own back...anything...anything but this.

“Let go.” I whisper, my tone, hollow.

What I want I won’t find here. I’ve always been able to find a way around obstacles in order to achieve my desires, and if she won’t give me what I want, I’ll take it from somewhere else.

“Amanda…” She tries once more, her tone a sad plea.

“Just leave me alone.” I mutter, pulling away from her and jabbing the elevator button once more.

Her hands fall away from my arms, and I ignore the sting in my heart at how quickly she’s giving up. I know I’m not giving her many choices, but I know that if she knew my intentions upon leaving this building she would be much more vexed in this moment.

The doors sway open and I step through into the tiny cubicle, barely turning to watch her shimmering, distraught expression as the elevator takes me away. It won’t stop me anyways.

~~~~

Once, a fellow GA member stood up in a meeting and sarcastically joked, “You know…. Addiction is like potato chips. You can’t have just one.” - right before a confession of relapse in a single, unhinged night of drinking and gambling.

Meetings have provided me a place to vent, a place to be understood, a place to belong. I’ve chased away my loneliness in the company of others who are just as tired and stressed as I am; but I’ve also known just in the back of my mind that I could find the hook up - whether that be underground gambling, hard drugs or sex - from almost anyone in that room if I knew who to press just right. After years of detective work, I can tell when someone is lying, when someone is uncomfortable, and most of all, when someone is guilty, and I’ve been watching the people that pass through GA for awhile now.

Finding someone is easy. All I have to do is show up, and I know they’ll be there - because deep down inside no one wants to quit and it’s never easy.

Her name is Lana. Dark hair, green eyes, perfect lipstick. She’s nearly forty, but you’d never know by the way her dark pant suits hug her frame. You’d never know she’s a sex addict, but I do.

Approaching her discreetly after the meeting ends, I sidle up next to her near the table of snacks and drinks.

“Hey, Lana.” I say, grabbing a cookie from the plate, casually.

“Hey.” She smiles, quickly.

Always flighty, always nervous. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was taking something, but I know a guilty conscience when I see one.

“You look like you’re itching to get out of here.” I comment, trying not to watch her too intently.

“I’m good.” She shakes her head, but she’s looking away, pouring a drink with a shaking hand.

“You smoke?” I ask.

“One of my legal vices.” She returns, scoffing a laugh.

“Come on.” I encourage, canting my head towards the door. “I’ll bum you one.”

She glances over at me with a frown, most likely wondering why I’m suddenly so interested in her, when I have never spoken to her before.

“Come on.” I murmur, leaning in, “We both want to get out of here…. Why not?”

Her eyes dart away from mine, back towards the room of people milling around and conversing...unaware of the two of us.

“Okay.” She finally says, setting the cup down at the edge of the table.

I nod and turn towards the exit, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets as I try not to hurry too quickly out the door. I don’t want anyone to notice us leaving.

Lana follows me and we escape together out into the quiet alley alongside the building. The sounds of the city and passing cars echo in the background, but I deem us sufficiently alone.

Grabbing my cigarettes out of my pocket, I lodge one between my lips and hold the box out to Lana. She takes one and I hold up the lighter next, igniting a flame at the tips of the cigarettes between us.

She’s watching me closely as smoke billows between us and I lean back against the wall, taking in another drag.

“You’re probably wondering who I am and what I want.” I finally say, glancing back over at her.

“I know your name.” She says, hesitantly sucking on the nicotine. “But you don’t really talk in meetings.”

“You wanna know why?” I ask, inspecting the end of the cigarette, marked with my lipstick.

“Okay…?” She says, uneasily.

“I’m a cop, Lana.” I say, taking another drag, slowly.

Her eyes widen for half a second, and I can see her trying to process what I said, and why I said it.

“I know you’re in SAA too.” I continue before she can speak.

“Wh-what does that have to do with anything?” She demands, her cheeks flushing even in the darkened alleyway.

“Back there…” I nod towards the building. “You said your vices are illegal.”

“Yeah….” She says slowly, and I can see her connecting my profession to this conversation, but she has it wrong as she blurts out, “Look I haven’t done anything that warrants-”

“Lana, I’m not here to judge you.” I say, pushing away from the wall and pacing away. “I’m not undercover or looking to arrest you or whatever else you’re thinking.”

“Then what…?”

“You know where to get things where most people wouldn't...” I say, tilting my head back and releasing a stream of smoke. “Sex… for example.”

Shocked silence follows my statement and I turn towards her to find her staring at me, stuttering for words.

“I’m looking for something very specific and I want your hookups.” I say, “Someone safe….discreet….Someone who won’t get me caught.”

“Amanda,”  She shakes her head, holding up her hands, “I’m trying to get my life together. How can I send you down this path with a clear conscience?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to relapse.” I reply. “And I’m not an addict. This isn’t going to hurt me.”

“That’s what I said at first, too.” She returns, and I can see quivering, prancing like a nervous mare.

“Look, I’ve got gambling under control.” I say, stepping back to her so she can see the calm control in my eyes...so she’ll calm down too... “Hey, I know where to draw the line now.” I catch her gaze with the most cavalier smile I can muster, but she's shaking her head.

“You’re asking me to tell you where to find someone that you pay for sex.” She whispers, each word enunciated with shock, and all the disgust I should've expected from someone who's in the program and understands how wrong their actions are - just like I should.

“Look.” I breathe, swallowing against panic, conjuring what logic I can into the spiraling conversation, “ The person I want isn’t ready. This isn’t about a mindless fuck, okay? I know what I'm doing.”

I try to tamp down the desperation that’s bleeding into my tone, but it’s hard to ignore the clawing need inside of me. It’s hard to ignore that I’m willing to let a complete stranger touch me after all I’ve been through. It’s hard to ignore that Lana is right.

“I can’t do this.” Lana whispers, turning away from me.

She tosses the half spent cigarette to the ground and kills the glowing end with a stab of her pointed-toe high heel.

“Lana, wait.” I demand, grabbing at her arm before I can stop myself, before I can remind myself that I don’t know her, and she’s not a perp.

“Let go.” She cries, yanking her arm away from my hold, and the look of horror on her face tells me all I need to know about where this ill fated meeting will end. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to tell you this stuff!”

“I’m perfectly fine!” I breathe, although my face is flushed and my heart is pounding, desperation flooding my veins.

“You’re a cop _and_ an addict?” She scoffs, spinning back towards the door. “Get some help, okay?”

“Lana…” I say once more, my voice a moaning plea as she yanks the door open, and marches back into the building, leaving me alone.

The door slams, echoing along this slim road of darkened desperation with a note of ringing finality.

“Errggghhh!”

I scream out at the brick walls of the alley way, spinning away from the closing door. Slamming my hands against the opposite wall, I sag there, crying softly against the rough, gritty exterior. Ignoring the way the brick bites into my palms, chest, and forehead, I dig my nails into the grooves, wishing I could just tear it down brick by brick and hurl each heavy piece until this raging need and miserable frustration is vanquished from my being.

The empty, indefatigable alley stares down upon me, unmoved by my anger, quietly taunting me with the fact that I have done everything possible to gain what I want and I am still empty, aching, cold. It seems as if the entire world has strategically turned it’s back to me, stealing every strike of luck or cunning straight from my hands. I’ve cajoled, cried, begged, demanded...I was even prepared to pay, though now I wonder if it might be just a unfruitful and unfulfilling. It wouldn’t be her…I’ll never be whole without her….

~~~~~

Finding my way to her doorstep is instinct.

There is no elaborate plan this time, no conniving or manipulative tactics to gain her sympathy or compassion. I’m alone in my agony, and showing her the rawest side of my anguish is more ill-advised than anything. She is still my commander, after all. The things she could bring down upon my head, the ways she could ruin me, are immeasurable - and yet I trust her most of all.

It’s late when I finally drag myself up to her building, shivering with what is left of my self control. At this point, I feel strangely numb, as if the world is floating past me. The single thought of finding her throbs through my veins, reminding me over and over of the burning need inside, the way it singes me to my core.

I buzz for her with a languishing hand, leaning my forehead against the building as I wait for her to answer. I can hear my breath rushing through my nose and out through my mouth, a husky, shallow harmony to the dull beating of my heart. My lids flutter, holding back a flood of tears that I can hardly feel stinging my eyes, and yet I know are ready to explode upon my cheeks beneath her gaze. Once she sees me I know I’ll be finished.

“Who is it?” Her voice startles me, crackling through the speaker.

Lifting my head, I fumble for the button once more, my limbs feeling both heavy and all at once weightless.

“It’s me…” I whisper, before reminding myself that we aren’t yet that close. “It’s Amanda…”

Silence whispers back at me upon staticy sound waves, scratching with grating unease over my ears, foreboding a myriad of outcomes. I haven’t considered the possibility that she might turn me away, but I have to believe in the side of her that held me all night in my apartment, the part of her that swore she wouldn’t leave me.

Finally, her answer comes in the unlatching of the gate. The speaker clicks off, offering me no sign of her reception to my appearance at her door past 1 am, but I don’t have time or energy to consider this anything other than a sign.

Pushing inside, I carry myself as quickly as possible to her door.

I’ve been here only a couple of times, a few dinner parties with the team, but never alone. Being inside of Olivia’s space is much different than her being in mine. It seems so invasive when she already gives so much of herself to the job, but I can’t imagine that I’m taking something from her when I need her to give me so much; no, I can’t consider that this is wrong because I’ve already suffered enough.

Simply getting to her door already feels like salvation.

I knock, my knuckles falling weak against the wooden barrier, then trailing away. Leaning against the frame, I wait for her to open the door, and pray she’ll find some way to hold me again.

When the door creaks open, spilling light out onto my huddled, shivering figure, I lift my head. With squinted eyes, I gaze up at her beautiful face etched with both concern and apprehension. I can see all of her emotions in the tight draw of her brows and lips, but even the tiny lines detailing her mouth and eyes won’t stop my heart from fluttering, my stomach from flipping. Just her presence is a salve to my raw, aching emotions.

“Amanda…” She begins, and I know she’s about to lecture me, to remind me of what she’s already said - even if it’s in the most gentle way possible.

“Please…” I whimper, sagging into the doorway, “I just need some help…”

Her frown deepens as my haggard appearance comes to light, and she immediately reaches in to touch me. Her fingers wrap around my arm, and I close my eyes, my breath rushing from my lungs. It feels as if my skin is peeled back, her hand squeezing against open, exposed nerve endings, and I can feel my knees shuddering, sapped of strength.

I don’t realize I’m swaying, nearly falling until she’s catching me. My eyes slam open as she wraps her arm around my waist and pulls me inside. I’d be on the floor without her and the fact that she’s holding me up with every fiber of her physical strength only forces another quiver through my body.

“Amanda, are you all right?” She asks, her voice low, nearly trembling.

She’s frightened. I can tell by the look in her widened eyes, the way she grips me almost too tightly, the slightest thickening of her voice, but she won’t let it show. She is my commander, my pillar of strength, my protector, and I know I’m safe here with her.

“I just…” I whisper, blinking slowly against blurry tears. “I don’t want you to let me go.”

Her expression twists, slowly, from concern to something akin to dread, but it can’t hurt me anymore. If this is to be our final road, I will crash and burn in her arms, and I’ve accepted that.

“Have you taken something?” She asks in a whisper, as if searching for some more horrid explanation for my behavior.

I laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a raspy cough, “I told you...you don’t understand.”

She’s quiet, an intense silence, as if I can hear the implications cementing themselves inside her brain. She’s realizing my need for her isn’t a choice. I can’t simply walk away, or decide this isn’t wise.

I look up at her, and our eyes lock slowly, like two cogs finally turning into place, fitting together in one, final turn. Her eyes are ever shifting pools of chocolate and caramel, and tonight they are swirling with light. She’s never looked at me this way before, and it shakes me to my core.

“What did you do?” She whispers, as if divining the terrible actions and decisions I’ve made that have brought us to this point.

I glance away, though I loathe to leave her open gaze willingly, but it’s the shame of what I tried to do that forces my eyes towards the ground. Tears pulse at my lids, and I shake my head slowly.

“Amanda.” She demands,  firmly, holding me away from herself with both hands gripping my shoulders. “Look at me.”

Finally, I drag my watery gaze to hers, staring, pitifully, up at her with the horror of what I might’ve done had Lana told me what I wanted to hear swirling through my brain.

“I… I tried to find another way.” I whimper. “Without you…”

“What do you mean?” She asks, breathless with apprehension.

“I can’t…” I murmur, my chin lapsing to my chest once more as the tears finally pool high enough to slip from the confines of my lids.

Her hands are trembling as she gives me a shake, hard enough to jolt me.

“Tell me right now.” She orders, releasing one shoulder in order to grab my chin, forcing my miserable gaze to hers.

“I…” I stutter against tears, my lips twisting with force of emotion and shame. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sob, “I was going to pay someone!”

“Amanda….”

I can hear all of the horror and disappointment wrapped up in every, single syllable and I would’ve much rather have ceased to exist if I didn’t imagine the ways she could make me whole again, if I didn’t believe in every particle of her being to save me - but all of the faith in the world doesn’t stop this moment from hurting.

With tears shaking me, I’m hunched over, collapsing into her. Loud, wrenching sobs rip from my throat as she catches me, shocked yet steady still. She seems uncertain of her direction for only a moment before she shoves the door closed and pulls me inside. I’m huddled down into the crook of her arm as she directs us towards the couch. My feet are uncoordinated, nearly causing us to stumble before I finally drag us both down.

I find myself on my knees, splayed over her, my head buried in her stomach, and though the floor is hard against my joints she’s soft, and she’s safe. I clutch her waist, unwilling to let go, unwilling to move from my position at her feet.

At first, she tries to pull me up onto the couch with her, urging me in a low voice, “Come on, Amanda, you don’t want to be down there, honey.”

“No… I do…” I whisper against her, my voice muffled and mutilated by emotion. “I need to be down here.”

“Amanda…”

“Don’t you get it?” I cry, lifting my head as I sink back on my heels. “It’s never going to be anyone but you….”

She stares back at me, her eyes wide, full of so many swirling emotions, so many I can’t begin to describe them all; and I know if I can’t convince her tonight that I never will.

Reaching up, I grab her arms and breathing heavily, I plead, “Please… I need you so much… Take this from me… Break me. Please.”

She’s blinking quickly, dark eyes shimmering and I can feel her trembling against me as she reaches up slowly. Her fingers brush my cheek, leaving tingling trails of stimulation along my flesh, stealing my every breath, until at last she finds purchase in my disheveled hair. I can see the fire igniting inside her gaze, and her chest rises and falls sharply like the swell of an incoming tide, crashing higher and higher inside of her.

She drags me in suddenly, harshly, and her lips are as unforgiving as I have always dreamed they would be. When she moves, she doesn’t hesitate. There is no second guessing wrapped up inside the action of kissing me and the warmth and power of her mouth paralyzes me. My fingers are clenched against her arms in shock, my body rigid and quivering; and though the tears are still fresh upon my cheeks she takes my lips with a passion unshaken by mere emotion.

It takes me several long moments to respond, but when I do, I’m hungry for it, my mouth parting beneath her ravenous ministrations. It’s neither neat or slow, but our relationship has never been either of those things, and I doubt it ever will be.

We go back and forth, sucking at each lips in a flurry of tongue and teeth until I’m drowning in the sensations. The warmth of her mouth captures me, the taste of her tongue holding me down even past what I think I can take until finally her lips drag away. She’s panting heavily as her wet lips move down my jaw to my ear lobe.

“Promise me you’ll stop me if it’s too much.” She’s whispers ardently, pressing her forehead to my temple.

I nod raggedly against her, my heart racing in my chest, choking me in my throat. I’m shaking all over in anticipation and although I have spent every single moment since that night in my apartment pining for this I hardly feel prepared for this moment of truth. I want it with my entire being, every single cell screaming for this contact, but I am all at once terrified and eager to bare myself to her.

There’s no time to contemplate because her hands are sliding down my body, seeking buttons and zippers, bare flesh and compliance. I’m breathing sharply and shallowly as my trembling, fumbling hands dare to assist her, our fingers bumping into one another in our rush to remove my pants from the equation.

I thought I’d feel ashamed after my confession to her, but when I’m free of the cloth restrictions all I can feel is relief.

“Come here.” She murmurs, pulling me closer until I’m laid across her thighs.

She pulls one arm behind my back and her fingers slide through mine, lacing tight in reassurance, and I can’t discern which one of us is quavering harder.

Her other hand touches my back, the first hesitant interaction since the kiss, but I can only hold onto her tight, wait for it to come. My whole being is hanging onto this moment, waiting for her to take me.

Like a crooked, improperly healed fracture, I want her to break me again to set me right, to make me whole.

Her fingers trail downwards, dragging a wash of goosebumps over my flesh as she moves over the swell of my buttock and down to my thigh. I hear her draw a raspy breath as her fingers fall away, leaving me achingly bereft of her touch for a few unbearable seconds.

The first strike expels the air from lungs in a sharp gasp, and I jerk against her, my flesh tingling at the site of the blow. Though I imagine she could enforce much more strength, my body is too overworked, feeling everything at the high level of intensity, and anything she gives me is almost more than I can take.

Her fingers flex around mine, and I can feel the sweat gathering between our palms but neither of us would dare to let go in this moment. I need to hold onto her, to be anchored to her in every way possible.

“I’ve got you.” She whispers, her husky voice falling on my ears with more grace than I know I deserve.

I clench my eyes shut though I don’t damn the tears filling my eyes. I’m not sad - only ready to surrender.

Her hand falls again with a crack, harder, more purposeful, and I moan into the couch as the burn resonates into layers of flesh. As soon as it is dispersing into nothing I’m aching again for it, and I don’t know when it will ever be enough.

“Yes…” I whimper, digging my toes into the carpet in order to push my ass back up to her hand.

I can hear her panting as she pulls me close and spanks me again, her actions gaining determination now. She doesn’t hesitate to deliver a second and then a third, burning patterns of punishment across my flesh. I’m moaning each time, wordlessly begging over and over, praying she won’t stop.

When she finally does, I groan, “Nooo… Don’t stop…”

I dig my head into the couch, pushing back against her again because it’s still so far from being enough. I need her to destroy me, to obliterate this need inside until I’m nothing but a sniffling, shivering mess at her feet.

She hesitates for only a moment, and I can sense she wants to question me. I know she’s scared to truly hurt me, but I can’t even imagine that being a possibility. All I can think about is releasing every ounce of this wretched anguish and anxiety inside the safe space of her arms, beneath the guidance of her hand.

Pressing the length of her forearm across my back, she squeezes my hand while her other palm massages over my stinging flesh for one sweet, tantalizing second. In the next, she’s striking me, the flat ridge of her hand unerring across my backside. Another moan explodes from lips as the second falls in tandem with the pulse between my hips. A churning warmth is curling there with every blow, and just as it doesn’t stop, neither does she. A space barely long enough to draw a breath passes between each spanking, punctuating a continuous loop of her hand cracking against my flesh, then my cry and the jar of my body.

The pain of each spanking screams at my brain to buck and claw to escape but inside my heart is buckling to the relief of falling apart in her hands, and when she holds me down that deliverance only comes quicker.

 _Crack!_ She strikes me for what seems to be dozenth time, and I arch beneath her arm, crying out as she lays the harsh punishment on top of already aching flesh, pushing a dull throb to the surface. The fresh flesh she does find, sings with the rush of activated nerve endings, but those tiny pieces of me are becoming smaller and smaller beneath the force of her palm.

Tears sting at my eyes, pushing to escape as the rhythm of the spankings steadily continues, beating like a drum of commencement. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve taken, but some part of my brain tells me that it’s enough do temporary damage to my soft, pale flesh.

Above me, she’s shaking, finally hesitating, but I’m burning up inside. She can’t stop now, not even at this point where I can barely breathe. I choke over saliva that had gathered thickly in my mouth, gasping as I try to beg, to tell her not to fucking stop.

“M-more…” I rasp. “Har-harder…”

Her hand is trembling against mine, her flesh growing cold and clammy in the embrace of our fingers, and perhaps she’s more terrified in this moment than I am. To me, this is finally it. This is what I have wanted for so long, what I’ve needed, and I can’t let us stop - not until I’m completely destroyed.

She’s pulling me close again, pushing me deeper into the couch as she clenches her thighs around mine, holding me firmly down. I gasp in breaths as drags her palm over my aching flesh where she’s struck me enough to cause tiny bruises and broken blood vessels and the intense clench between my legs expels a sharp moan from my lips, a heady cry that I know she must discern from the ones that have come before.

She pauses once more, her hand squeezing my buttock sharply as she leans over me. I can hear her panting, thready noises that rake shivers down my spine. I’m shaken realizing that she’s searching for her self control, knowing I’ve broken through her armor just as she has broken through mine. We’re here together, naked, vulnerable, and finally one.

When she drags herself upright, I can feel the resolution searing through her. She’s stopped quaking, her breathing slowed.

I swallow hard, digging myself down smaller into her lap because I can feel the way she’s about to destroy me. There will be no more hesitation on her part, or begging from me. She doesn’t need it, and I can already feel myself imploding at the power of her control over me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve ever needed.

_Crack!_

Her palm falls. Hard. Fast. Determined.

I cry out, the sound tearing at my throat because it somehow hurts worse than before. I burrow my face into the couch as the tears finally push past the final barrier of my resistance just as her hand falls again, tearing at the brick walls I’ve built around my heart. I can feel myself beginning to crumble from within as she strikes me with a low cry of her own, the sound of exertion and passion taking another blow to my self-constructed armor.

I’m shaking, coming undone at the seams of my existence where I’ve stitched myself together with the bitterness of a hundred heartbreaks and betrayals. I’m suddenly feeling again after all I’ve known for so long is the numbness of scar tissue on top of scar tissue, and I’m screaming, releasing my agony in the form of tears spilling down my cheeks.

She strikes me until my voice reaches the pitch of desperation, and when she stops, I’m sobbing, in a daze.

“Why…? Why are you stopping?” I cry, though I’m a weak, slumping mess of tears and engorged nerve endings.

“It’s enough, Amanda.” She whispers, her voice husky as she slides her arm around me, and begins to pull me up.

“No...No…” I mumble, shaking my head.

I feel like I’m still falling...falling into her arms… I’m not sure where the bottom is or where I came from.

“Stop, stop.” She whispers as I slip down between her legs, swaying against her thighs. “It’s okay… everything will be okay.”

She cups my face in both hands, her thumbs dipping beneath my eyes to gather away my tears and I blink against the remaining moisture. I gaze up at her face, and her expression is a mix of concern and satisfaction. Lifting my hand slowly, I grab onto her wrist, holding on so that she won’t stop touching me like this - soft, affectionate, caring.

“Don’t let go.” I murmur.

“I won’t let go.” She’s whispers in return, never hesitating.

My heart clenches in my chest and I lean into her harder, grasping at her. I need to be closer to her, flesh to flesh.

She pulls me up onto the couch, and leans back slowly as I sink into her lap. She holds me around the waist while her other hand cradles my head to her shoulder, and I imagine it’s something like the way she holds her child, but that doesn’t confuse or discomfort me - rather the opposite. I know she’s going to take care of me.

What happens after this night is far from my mind. I don’t even care what happens in the next minute, or hour, because I know she’ll be with me, putting every shattered piece of me back together - broken and unbroken, safe inside her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, I just wanted to stop and thank everyone for their comments and support. I haven't gotten around to answering everyone's because I've been having some real life issues. Because of that I'm going to be taking a break from posting on here and tumblr. This won't be forever but its what I need to do to focus. Thanks again. I love you all


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